


Maybe Sort Of Slightly Wanting More

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While giving Sharon relationship advice, Brenda realizes that she has feelings for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Sort Of Slightly Wanting More

**Author's Note:**

> The full prompt for this story was: “40. Brenda helps Sharon out with some relationship advice (a.k.a. sitting around drinking wine and listening to Sharon bitch) in her relationship with another woman and ends up realizing she's in love with Sharon -- but was her advice too good and she just fixed the relationship she now realizes she'd rather break up? (Bonus!Complication if Brenda and Fritz are still married).” I hope I managed to do this prompt justice and that it’s a believable scenario. Comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

Curling her feet beneath her body, Brenda settled back against the cushions and sighed happily, reveling in her first moment of relaxation all day. She loved Thursdays—they were a bright spot on the horizon, something she looked forward to all week. It should have been strange to her, or unnatural somehow, to enjoy something like a Girls’ Night more than she enjoyed her job, but she did. It was an integral part of her week. 

When one of them had plans (which was infrequent, as they both scheduled around Girls’ Night whenever they could), Brenda was insufferably displeased, a fact pointed out by Fritz every time it happened. On more than one occasion, he had assured Brenda that he’d never interlope on a Thursday evening if it meant that his wife had that opportunity to unwind. The implication was, of course, that Sharon Raydor was the antidote to Brenda’s bad moods, but Brenda wasn’t about to argue with him, lest she drudge up sore, unresolved topics they’d fought about more than once. 

She needed the time away, tucked in the cozy sanctuary of Sharon’s condo. It wasn’t necessarily that she needed time away from her husband, but the space certainly helped to keep things pleasant between the two of them during a time that simply felt…stagnant. Maybe it was the feminine energy that refueled her, or maybe it was simply having a girlfriend for the first time in two decades. Maybe she just needed a night to herself away from him every week. There was something freeing about being just Brenda Leigh and not Mrs. Howard. 

Now, eight months later, Brenda was grateful for this close friendship with a woman who had once been an adversary, and even more grateful for their Thursdays together. No husband, no girlfriend, no Rusty—just the two of them. Brenda took special care to ignore the voice in the back of her mind that said, _“As it should be.”_ If someone had told her three years ago that they’d be such close friends that they devoted a night every week to each other, Brenda would have laughed herself to tears. Now, she couldn’t imagine a week going by without it. 

Brenda pulled herself back into the moment as Sharon came around the sofa, holding out a large glass of red wine—Merlot, she suspected, as she and Sharon alternated between their favorites every week. Last week, they’d had a bottle of cabernet. She took a sip, humming her pleasure at the taste of her favorite wine on her tongue. “You are a godsend, Sharon Raydor.” 

The captain chuckled, mimicking Brenda’s pose at the other end of the sofa. Her feet, like Brenda’s, were bare, and her toenails were painted red. “I aim to please.” She rolled her head around her neck, loosening the tension. She lifted her glass to Brenda. “To Thursday.” 

Brenda happily clinked her glass against Sharon’s. “To Thursday!” 

“I thought Thursday would never get here. It’s been such a long week,” Sharon added, tracing her finger along the lip of the wine glass. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, wincing as she did. 

“Oh Shar—you’re too tense.” Brenda set her glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer. “Turn around; I’ll rub your shoulders for you.” 

“Oh…no, that’s all right. You don’t have to do that.” 

Brenda rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me move you myself. I might spill that wine all over your couch.” 

Reluctantly, Sharon agreed, setting down her own glass before turning her back to Brenda. “ _You’re_ the godsend.” 

Brenda settled herself a little closer, gently moving aside the thick curtain of brown hair that was always softer than she expected it to be whenever she touched it. The feel of it against her fingers always made Brenda a little breathless, which she chalked up to intense jealousy over her perfect Disney princess hair. This time was no different, and she lingered momentarily as she caught a whiff of her flowery shampoo. Was her hair softer than usual? She shook herself out of her reverie, wondering why she was suddenly so wrapped up in things like her emotional response to their friendship and how nice it was to touch the other woman’s hair. She couldn’t quite figure it out, and so she placed her hands on Sharon’s shoulders and began to rub. 

“You _are_ tense!” She massaged, working her thumbs into the knots in Sharon’s muscles until the other woman groaned ever so softly. The sound caught Brenda by surprise and her own body tensed. _Strange_ , she thought. She shifted her hips. “What on earth’s goin’ on at work this week to have made you so tense?” 

Sharon’s head dipped forward and she sighed. “Work has been fine. It was a pretty easy week, actually. Open and shut case, a rarity, but one I was thankful for.” 

Brenda mulled this over, slipping her hands beneath the cotton of Sharon’s t-shirt to have unrestricted access to Sharon’s bare shoulders. She was warm and soft and Brenda’s eyes widened as she marveled at the feel of her beneath her fingers. 

“Oh, that’s _so_ nice, Brenda Leigh.” Sharon’s voice had dropped to a huskier octave, and Brenda could still not place why the sound was so…perplexing and intriguing. She shifted her hips once more, feeling a nearly unrecognizable heat in her lower abdomen. 

“What’s goin’ on, Sharon? What happened?” 

Sharon tensed again, squaring her shoulders. She paused for a moment or two before venturing to say, “Does nothing get past you?” 

“Nope.” She continued her firm massage. “Spill it, Raydor.” 

Sharon shifted uncomfortably, remaining silent. If they’d been facing each other, Brenda knew Sharon would have avoided meeting her gaze as if considering whether or not to confide her problems in Brenda. The blonde simply waited. She knew Sharon well enough to know that if she didn’t push and prod, Sharon would eventually tell her everything. 

“Oh, all right. It’s just…” She took in a bracing breath. “I don’t want to whine to you about relationship stuff…I don’t want to suck up all of our time tonight going on and on about my concerns.”

Though Brenda grinned, unsurprised that Sharon had taken relatively little time to confess, the heat in her belly began to slowly freeze over at Sharon’s admission. Her tension was due to relationship “concerns”; Brenda was hardly stunned to hear that the source of Sharon’s stress was her girlfriend of six months. It had been only a matter of time before things became rocky, and though she would never admit it to Sharon, she was surprised that they’d lasted as long as they had. 

Jane Dawson was a…challenging person. She was nice enough, but there was something about her that Brenda found off-putting. She was driven, work-focused, a little difficult, and she wielded a great deal of power and influence where she worked. In those respects, Brenda and Jane had a good deal in common—maybe _that_ was why she didn’t particularly like Jane. When Brenda had wondered what Sharon’s type was, she never would have considered someone like the psychologist she’d ended up with. Jane was sardonic and terrifyingly analytical, and on the few occasions when Brenda had interacted with her, she had felt like the subject of a case study. It had made her clam right up, and Brenda could only imagine that Jane had been diagnosing her with a laundry list of mental disorders. 

“So what’s goin’ on with Jane?” Brenda finally asked, directing the focus of her fingers to the back of Sharon’s neck. The brunette sighed again, humming her approval of Brenda’s massage. 

“You’ve got magic fingers. Could I hire you to do this every week?” 

Brenda was overwhelmingly pleased by the compliment. “Flattery will get you nowhere, captain. Tell me what the problem is.” 

“She’s just been…distant. She’s got a heavy workload right now and a few complicated patients, but I have this sinking feeling that there’s more going on than she’s telling me.” 

Brenda twisted her lips, biting the inside of her cheek. She focused for a moment on working the tension out of Sharon’s shoulders, smiling to discover a small freckle on the back of Sharon’s neck. She resisted the urge to run her thumb over the little mark. “What did Jane say when you talked to her about it?” 

Sharon was silent. 

“You haven’t talked to her? I know that opening up about stuff is hard for you sometimes, but why not just ask her what’s going on with her?” 

The brunette sighed and turned to face Brenda, placing her hand atop her friend’s. “What if the reason she’s distant is because of something more than just her work?” 

“’What ifs’ are dangerous and you know it, Sharon,” Brenda ventured. “Maybe it is just her work. She doesn’t strike me as the type to be apologetic about her commitments.” 

Sharon took in a deep breath before sliding back against the arm of the sofa, leaving Brenda’s hands feeling bereft without Sharon’s warm skin beneath them. “I know; I’m not apologetic about my workload either. That’s never been a point of contention for us, so I suppose that’s why I’m worried that it’s not just about work for her. She’s just seemed so far away.” 

She looked away then, and Brenda could tell that her friend was far more upset than she was letting on. Had Sharon cried over this? Had she wept into her pillow at night, locked in her bedroom so Rusty wouldn’t see her cry? Brenda suppressed a sudden urge to call Jane up and give her a piece of her mind, but she managed to refrain; what good would it do to get involved? 

“Sharon, how long has this been goin’ on?” She cocked her head observantly. “This doesn’t seem like a new thing.” 

“Two or three weeks, I suppose.” 

“Sharon! Why didn’t you tell me?”

The brunette shrugged, still not returning Brenda’s gaze. “I thought it was my imagination, or that it would get better on its own. Maybe I didn’t want to say it out loud and grant it any validity. I didn’t think it would worry me this much.”

“Oh, Sharon…” Brenda reached out a hand, resting it comfortingly atop Sharon’s knee. “What is it specifically that’s worryin’ you, if you don’t think it’s about her job?” 

Sharon swallowed the obvious lump in her throat, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, careful not to dislodge Brenda’s hand. “She could be…losing interest in me.” 

The fear in Sharon’s tone clenched at Brenda’s heart. “How could anyone possibly lose interest in you?” Her voice had taken on a shrill tone, outraged by the mere suggestion. Sure, she and Sharon had had their issues in the past—before _and_ during their friendship—but Brenda had never actively wished to no longer have Sharon in her life as a result. She couldn’t even entertain the possibility of growing sick of the woman, or wanting to give up on their relationship. “If that’s what’s goin’ through Jane’s mind, then she’s a damn fool.” Not intending to voice that particular statement aloud, Brenda hurriedly switched gears. “You don’t think she’s…y’know…steppin’ out, do you?” 

Sharon’s green eyes darkened as they widened in surprise. “No! No, not at all.” She shook her head vehemently. “Jane loves me. She knows my history with Jack. I trust her. She’d never put me through that.” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ve only been together for six months. It’s entirely within the realm of possibility that she is reconsidering the course of this relationship. Maybe it’s not working out for her. Maybe _I’m_ not working out for her.” 

Sharon’s gaze trailed off again, fixing somewhere across the room. Her eyes, though not red-rimmed with tears, were shining, and Brenda could tell that her friend was working considerably to refrain from giving in to her fears and succumbing to emotion. Brenda followed her gaze, realizing that Sharon was staring at a shelf lined with photographs, and she surmised that Sharon was not staring at the photo of Brenda, Sharon, and Rusty on Santa Monica Pier. Beside that photo (the one that warmed Brenda’s heart and brought back happy, laughter-filled memories) was one of Jane, a candid black and white image of equal prominence. The photo was a beautiful one, capturing the typically serious woman in a rare moment, her face alight with laughter. Even in shades of gray, Jane was an incredibly attractive woman, and Brenda could easily recall the woman’s fine, pale blonde hair and striking slate blue eyes. The few times that Brenda had met her, she had been charmed by her cool beauty. Those eyes were always observant, always watching, and yet seemed to shine with mysterious amusement. Her hair was lighter even than Brenda’s, falling in gentle curls over her freckled shoulders. Even the small mole above her oft-smirking lips and beneath her freckled nose was attractive. Together, Jane and Sharon made a gorgeous couple. 

Brenda looked away when the strange sensation in the pit of her stomach became too much to bear. She couldn’t discern a reason for her stomach ache, nor could she understand why the hairs on her arms were standing upright. It was the same feeling she’d experienced when that flirty woman had called Fritz’s voicemail, and when she’d first seen Will with his wife. It felt remarkably like jealousy. 

The jealousy bothered her. Why should she be jealous? It wasn’t as if her position as Sharon’s best friend were being usurped. There was plenty of room in Sharon’s life for more than one blonde woman. She wasn’t being replaced, and yet…she felt threatened. 

But she _did_ like Jane, or so she tried to convince herself. The woman was the intellectual type, which appealed to Sharon’s keen, analytical mind. They were similar in that way, always making observations about the people and events surrounding them. It reminded Brenda, in a way, of the way she and Sharon had been when they worked together. They had been unstoppable as a team on the few rare occasions they worked on the same side. When the blonde thought of Jane and Sharon, unstoppable was not the word that came to mind. They could take on a Think Tank, but Brenda doubted they could take on the world as a couple. 

She and Sharon, on the other hand…

This barrage of inappropriate thoughts made Brenda immensely uncomfortable. Her hand tightened its grip on Sharon’s knee, anchoring her to the present. She and Sharon weren’t a couple, obviously, even if they were more compatible than Sharon appeared to be with Jane. And Jane was gay and Brenda was…in some strange shade of gray that was not at the totally heterosexual end of the Kinsey scale. But these thoughts were pointless; it wasn’t like she _wanted_ to be with Sharon. 

Besides, Brenda knew that Jane appealed to Sharon in other ways. She was outgoing and charming and adventurous—she liked to hike and swim and her body proudly boasted the results. Whenever Sharon looked at her or talked about her, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. She was clearly enamored. They were clearly in love. 

Realizing now that she had neglected to respond, Brenda took a sip of her Merlot and rubbed Sharon’s knee. “Sharon…look, honey…” Why was it so hard to come up with the soothing, supportive words that friends were supposed to say? She licked her lips. “I don’t know what happens behind closed doors, but you two seem so good together. She seems to love you. She’s a smart woman and I just can’t imagine that she could ever just get bored with you. You’re amazin’.” 

Sharon’s lips quirked into a half smile. “Thanks, Brenda.” She took a few gulps of her wine, draining what remained in the glass. 

“It really might just be that she’s wrapped up in work.” 

Sharon sighed. “And if she’s not?” 

“Well, then I think the two of you need to talk. I know that can be hard for you, but you’ll drive yourself crazy if you keep on wonderin’ without known’ what’s really goin’ on.”

Sharon huffed out a breath before rubbing her face with her hands. “Listen to me—I sound like a teenage girl.” 

“That’s allowed. You love her…it’s no wonder that you’re worried.” 

“Still,” Sharon said as she stood, “I shouldn’t be monopolizing our time with my problems.” She gestured to her friend with her hand. “How is Fritz?” 

Brenda could not immediately say why the question caught her off guard, but she supposed it may have had something to do with the guilt she felt about entertaining thoughts about what it would be like to be Sharon’s girlfriend. She blinked, shrugging. “Fine. We’re fine.” It didn’t seem important to share that Fritz had been distant for almost a full year, or that they barely talked anymore. She assumed that this was what happened in a marriage after a few years or so. It’s not like they were friends, not anymore. The friendship she had with her husband had never even compared to the friendship she had with Sharon, and it unsettled her because she didn’t know what that meant. 

“Yeah?” Sharon disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with the rest of the bottle. 

“Oh, sure. Same as always.” 

Sharon’s lips pursed disapprovingly, and Brenda just knew that her friend was about to call her out on her own evasive tactics when Sharon had been so open. Before she could, however, Sharon’s cell phone burred on the coffee table. As she refilled their empty glasses, Sharon’s eyes darted toward the phone. 

“Go on,” Brenda urged, rankled. “It could be Rusty…or Jane.” _Please be Rusty…_

Sharon grabbed her phone, activating the screen. She smiled, her cheeks reddening.

“ _That_ is definitely not a Rusty face.” The secret smile and the glimmer in Sharon’s eyes made Brenda think that the message was probably private in nature, but that did not stop her from asking, “What’s she sayin’?”

Sharon grinned as she tapped out a response. “She just said that she didn’t want to encroach on our girl time, but that she wanted me to know she was thinking of me.” 

The hue of her skin, however, led Brenda to believe that there was something a little more racy in the message, but the thought made her feel like she’d swallowed a rock. How could Sharon be having these problems with her girlfriend and then suddenly turn into a horny, blushing teenager after a dirty text or two? The power Jane seemed to hold over Sharon was terrifying. Surely Sharon wouldn’t sext her girlfriend right in front of Brenda? She brushed the thought aside, not liking this new, unpleasant awareness of discomfort and jealousy. What Sharon chose to do was her business, but if Sharon’s attention diverted predominantly to Jane’s texts, she’d come up with an excuse to leave. As she was weighing excuses, Sharon set down the phone, screen facing down. 

“Sorry about that.” She smiled, holding up her glass for a toast. “To my friend, Brenda, for keeping me sane.” 

Brenda blushed and immediately shared in the toast. “And to think we used to drive each other crazy.” 

“I prefer our current relationship.” 

They had evolved from adversaries to colleagues to friends, and for the briefest of moments Brenda again entertained the possibility that they had not finished evolving. It was the first time she had ever really considered that possibility that there could be more between them than just friendship…and the acknowledgment made her stomach hurt. This was not good. 

“Me too,” she replied half-heartedly. 

What she realized was simple: Brenda wanted more. 

-

By Thursday of the next week, Brenda had nearly driven herself crazy with her fraught introspection. She hadn’t been able to ignore the realization that had hit her like a freight train. By acknowledging that she maybe sort of slightly wanted something more than friendship with Sharon, that carefully compartmentalized area of her life had begun to unravel, as if she had pulled at a loose thread that could not be darned. 

People didn’t just get jealous for no reason. It had been easy to explain when she’d experienced it with Will and with Fritz; her jealousy was only confirmation of the fact that her feelings were true and legitimate—it was how she had realized she was in love. Her jealousy over Sharon and Jane flashed the obvious message in giant, neon letters, and Brenda Leigh had avoided it for months—maybe even years. Of course she loved Sharon; she was her best friend. But the terrifying realization was that she was _in_ love with Sharon. 

The joy at being in her presence, the peace of mind, the inappropriate sensations, the excuses to touch her—it had been glaringly obvious for ages, and Brenda hadn’t wanted to see it. 

Now, Brenda couldn’t avoid what was right in front of her. She loved Sharon, and despite the fact that they were both involved with other people (or were _very_ married, in Brenda’s case), she wanted to explore what that meant. She felt a little surge of hope at the reminder that Sharon might not be quite as involved as she had been previously. Sharon was going to talk to Jane—and what if Jane _did_ want to break up with Sharon? What if she _was_ interested in someone else? If Sharon were free, then Brenda could—

She stopped herself from completing the thought, groaning loudly and dropping her head onto her desk. “What is _wrong_ with you?” she hissed to herself, disgusted. She was irrefutably the worst friend and wife in the history of the world for wishing her best friend were single so she could—what? Date her? Have an affair with her? Run away with her? 

She swallowed, shifting in her chair. It was still early; she’d have to wait at least seven more hours to see Sharon, and watching the clock was driving her crazy. She wanted to talk to her best friend about these feelings and yet she couldn’t. She couldn’t talk to anyone about this madness, but that didn’t change the fact that Brenda could no longer ignore what she felt. 

She’d been edgy and irritable all week, and she was grateful that it was Thursday. She couldn’t tell Sharon exactly what had been on her mind, but she would be with Sharon, right where she wanted and needed to be. The thought of their Girls’ Night made her smile, and a shiver of giddy anticipation skittered down her spine. 

At least, despite this new jumble of emotions, that feeling had remained the same. 

She picked up her phone and tapped out a quick text message to Sharon. “Red or white tonight?” 

Moments later, when her office phone rang, Brenda smiled, knowing immediately who was calling. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Brenda said by way of greeting, her smile widening into a toothy grin. Her heart beat a little faster at Sharon’s chuckle. What an exciting, intoxicating feeling! 

“What if I had been someone else?” Sharon asked, amusement lacing her playful tone. 

“Well, then I would have played it off like it _was_ a pleasant surprise.” She giggled. “Couldn’t wait till tonight to hear my shinin’ voice?” 

Sharon hesitated. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I didn’t want to text you about it. I’m so sorry, Brenda Leigh, but I have to cancel.” 

Brenda’s heart sank. Her smile faded. “Oh.” She attempted to swallow, her throat dry. “Why?” 

“Well, I took your advice, and Jane and I had a long talk about everything. She agreed that she’d been feeling distracted by work and today she surprised me with a long weekend in Big Bear so we can reconnect. We’re leaving tonight.” 

Brenda’s jaw set. “I see. Well. That’s…great. Really, that’s so great. Glad I could help.” 

“You really did, Brenda Leigh. I allowed myself to get carried away by my worries and I felt so much better after you and I talked.” 

“I’m surprised you’re gonna take a day off of work. Let’s hope you don’t catch a case.” 

“My team can handle it if we do. This felt…more important.” 

Brenda pursed her lips. Her six-month relationship was important, but their pre-existing plans weren’t? They couldn’t have left in the morning? Her palms felt sweaty and the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly. “Yeah,” she finally agreed. 

“You sound disappointed,” Sharon guessed. 

Brenda was too quick when she dismissed it in a voice that was too high to be sincere. “No, no…fixin’ things with your girlfriend and takin’ a romantic weekend away is obviously more important than me….you go on and have fun. I’ll see you next week, y’know, if she doesn’t make plans for you then too.” 

“Next week is yours, I promise. I’ll tell you all about it then.” 

Brenda grimaced, realizing as they said their stilted goodbyes that she did not want to hear the details. The mental image was enough. Sharon’s bitchy girlfriend missed her and was whisking her away to make love and “reconnect” in the mountains. They’d be completely absorbed in each other. Brenda wouldn’t even be a blip on her radar. She’d be at home, pining away over her best friend, and Sharon would be fucking her stupid girlfriend till the sun came up. 

She groaned again, dropping her head against the desk with a harder thump. This was all her fault—she had set this in motion by giving her that advice in the first place. It was Sharon’s fault for making Brenda fall in love with her, and it was Fritz’s fault for drifting apart and not keeping Brenda invested. 

She sighed. No—it was no one’s fault but her own. She had fallen in love with a woman who had a girlfriend, and now she had to figure out what the hell to do about it. She knew one thing for certain: she was _not_ going to be giving Sharon romantic advice again unless it was about how to woo a chief investigator.

\---


End file.
